


i chose you

by Iamthebad_wolf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Domestic Avengers, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Injury, Not Canon Compliant, Past Abuse, it is a bit but im using my artistic licence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:48:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamthebad_wolf/pseuds/Iamthebad_wolf
Summary: found abandoned in an alleyway, you wake to the watchful brown eyes of james buchanan barnes. beaten up and hurting, you reject his help, untrusting of the world that has caused you far more trauma than anyone should have to go through.but bucky is determined to help. will you let him in? will you let yourself get a family?***************************************this fic was found in the depths of my computer and honestly i have no idea where it is headed
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Pain. 

That is the first thing you feel. It is not a sharp, fire like pain, but rather a dull ache. But it pulses throughout your whole body, reaching every corner. Your fingertips, the ends of your toes. It sists heavy in every joint, deep in each muscle. A deep pressure sits on the right-hand side of your chest and increases with every inhale. In other words, you hurt, badly. 

Pushing yourself into a sitting position, you groan as the pain triples. You try to take in each of your injuries, what hurts and what does not. That is when you feel it: _curiosity._ It spikes through the air. You look up.

Brown eyes fix onto yours. “hello.” A deep voice growls. It is the voice of someone who does not usually make first introductions, who holds back. “what happened to you?”

You say nothing. You can feel his caring protectiveness, but as your brother always reminded you, ' _emotions are not thoughts’_.

“You seem pretty beat.”

You keep your eyes fixed on his, not looking down at yourself. You do not have to imagine what you look like. You know. A bloody mess, both literally and figuratively. A split lip makes your mouth taste like iron. A black eye obscures half the vision in your left eye. A dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs, and beaten up legs covered in bruises and cuts only add to the image. 

“Who did it?”

“Why do you care?” You croak out, your voice escaping your lips without your consent. You prefer to stay silent when you have the choice. 

Confusion peaks in the air, his brow frowning slightly. But he keeps his emotions hidden well. Hidden well from everyone except you. “you're hurt.” 

“No shit Sherlock.” 

He smirks. “fuck you Watson.” 

You smirk back. 

He shuffles closer, the dark alleyway suddenly seeming so much smaller. You had not even noticed where you were before. Had not bothered to care. “you could at least tell me your name?” He suggests. 

You raise your head in defiance, refusing to follow this stranger’s orders. “yeah, I could.”

He sighs. “let me help.” 

“What's yours them?” 

“My what?”

“Your name?”

Silence. 

You tilt your face to the side. Even bloody and bruised you know how to look intimidating. “see, how can I trust you if you won't trust me?” 

_Impressed_. He watches you with silent regard. Clearly, he had not been expecting such high defences. “Bucky.” He finally slips out. 

_Truth._ That is what the air sings of. You can feel something more, hidden away. “nickname.” Not a question, a statement. 

_Amusement_. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

You can see the torment of emotions in his eyes, feel it in the air. “you don't tell many people that, do you?” 

“Not willingly.” Now there are some stories you want to hear. “now yours.”

“My what?”

“Your name.” 

Silence. 

“I thought we were doing the whole, ‘I'll show you mine, you show me yours’ thing.” He teases. He does not quite get the phrase right, which only manages to raise more questions from you. 

“Kailee.” you answer reluctantly. You dislike the name, you dislike the memories that come with it, even more. “my family called me Lee.” 

You wince internally. You do not want to think about what little family you have left. They are the reason you are lying battered and bruised in the alley in the first place. That thought reminds you that you are doing exactly that: lying down in an alleyway. You pull yourself to your feet, arm automatically wrapping around your chest as pain flares inside you. You wince, and stagger, the pain catching you off guard. The wall offers more than enough support though. Bucky looks as if he means to help you but stays away when he sees the determination and… fear at the thought of his proximity to you.

“Should I call you Lee?” _Concern._

“No.”

“What then?” 

You get the feeling this man does not often deal in real names, rather nicknames and codenames. Curiosity peaks in the air again, but this time it comes from you. “let's start with Kai and go from there.” 

He nods. “okay Kai.” 

You can see his eyes are filled with questions he wants to ask. You stop him before he has the chance. “see you around Bucky.” 

He frowns slightly. “don't you want help to get back home?”

You cannot help but laugh. This of course leads to more confusion from Bucky, you can feel it, sizzling through the air. “what home? I live on the streets.” 

“I can find you a place.” Bucky offers. Shock pings through the air, coming from the man himself. The two of you barely know each other, and yet he is offering to give you a place to stay. 

You shake your head. “I think that will make us both uncomfortable.” 

_Relief._

“Besides which, I've had my eye on a place for a while. Perhaps I'll see if I can stay there tonight.” You add, to stem him worry. 

He nods. “see you around, then, Kai.” And just like that, he melts back into the shadows, and out of view. 

******************

The warehouse is big and abandoned, just what you had hoped for. 

It is in a relatively quiet part of the city, but busy enough so that there are crowds you can slip into when you need to disappear. Because that is what everyone gets wrong about disappearing, it is not necessarily going to where there is nobody around, but it is making sure that nobody spots you. And sometimes, to do that, you need to put yourself in the middle of a thousand faces. 

The warehouse is large, at least three storeys high. But the majority of the place is just one large open room. On the other side of the building you can see some stairs which lead up into what might be an office. At the very least it is a smaller room which looks like its hanging from the ceiling but is supported in some time of way that you cannot see.

You limp into the hangar and see discarded wrappers and rubbish strewn across the floor. Signs of the homeless who last used this refuge. But there is no one here anymore. Just one tatty old rug in the corner. Perfect. That can be your bed. Better than sleeping on the cold hard ground. The rug itself probably is not sanitary, but it is better than nothing on a cold night. And it will certainly do until you can find someway to get your own stuff.

You catch yourself smiling and shake your head. This whole situation is insane. A few days ago, you had a warm bed, cooked food brought to you three times a day…

But here is better. Here, where you barely have a roof over your head, no food to be brought to you, a rug for a bed… but no tormentor. 

Yes, here is better. Here, you do not have to see that nightmarish face ever again. And you would rather be homeless for the rest of your days than have to spend one more day in that hellish place. 

And so, you go over to the rug, and carefully place yourself into it. You then turn your attention to your injuries. None of them are too bad, apart from the shoulder. Luckily, you have dealt with this before. 

In one quick, sharp movement, you shove the joint back into place, but pain rings throughout your body, hot white pain. It is so intense that the rest of the world just seems to vanish for a little while. When it eventually comes back, your head just spins. 

You lie back on the rug. _Time to rest_ , you think. _Yes, that is a good idea._

And the second your eyes close, you are out like a light. 

*******************

“So where were you earlier? You don't often go off on your own.” Steve pants, as he throws Bucky onto the mat. 

Bucky groans as he hits the floor, but quickly gets to his feet, panting just as hard as the soldier opposite him. He lowers his fists, signalling a truce. “I just went out.” 

“But that's the thing, you never leave the tower by yourself.” Steve says again. He knows his friend. They've known each other since they were boys, running around the schoolyard in sports shorts, or rather, since Bucky was running around, and Steve was trying not to keel over from an asthma attack. Steve knows that Bucky never willingly leaves the avengers tower if he can help it. He often feels a small bit of fear that he may hurt a civilian

Bucky shrugs, turning his back, and beginning to unwind the bandages around his fist. His metal arm handles the task with as much ability as a real arm could. “I just fancied some air. But…”

“But?” Steve asks, not liking the pause and uncertainty in Bucky's voice. 

“I found something.” 

“What something?” 

“A girl.” Bucky says. “and she was hurt.” 

Steve frowns confused as to why his friend is concerned about a girl. But then again, Bucky has always had a weak spot for the small, injured weaklings. He has a protective big brother-ness about him, always has. Steve can remember when that protectiveness was directed at him. “Where?”

“In an alley.” Bucky answers. “She was just lying there, beaten badly. But there was no sign of who attacked her. Worse, she wouldn't let me help.” 

Steve sighs. “that’s not exactly unusual for victims of abuse. They often don't want people to get involved.”

Bucky glares at him, a moment of hostility directed towards his friend. “You don't have to tell me that, remember.” 

Steve places a supportive hand on Bucky's shoulder. He does not want his friend to feel any more isolated than he already does. Bucky still does not really fit in with the rest of the team, no matter how hard he tries. Steve will not abandon him, when Bucky never abandoned Steve. “I know. I'm sorry.” 

Bucky shakes his head, looking back at the ground. He says nothing. 

Steve can see the concern his friend has for this girl. “Take me to her. Maybe then we can both help.”


	2. Chapter 2

The night is long and cold, but you do not feel it. You were so badly beaten yesterday that your body takes whatever rest it can. As bright sunlight streaks through cracks in the rotting ceiling, landing across your face, you groan and open your eyes. You stretch out in the cocoon you have made of the near mouldy rug.

It takes a minute for you to remember where you are, to remember the events of yesterday. But when they come back to you, you smile. 

He is not here. 

You sit up, stretching your arms wide. Your back cracks satisfactorily, as does your neck. Your stomach grumbles and you sigh. No one to bring you food anymore, meaning you must go and search for it. But that does not scare you; it is just another part of the adventure. 

You get to your feet, your cold muscles groaning in protest, and pain sparks through your body. You are still healing; you need to take it slow. 

But you also need food. 

You slip out of the warehouse, and walk through the street, following your nose. It cannot be that early, but it cannot be midday. About 10 am then. Even so, food stalls selling street food are in full swing. Trouble is, you need money, and you have none. 

There is a stall selling burritos, stuffed with meat, rice, vegetables, cheese, avocados, and more. It makes your mouth water. But you have no money and before you can buy one, you need to go and look for it, or pickpocket someone. But the stall owner catches your eye and beckons you over. 

“Girl? You hungry?”

You nod. 

“You homeless?” He asks. _Concern_. There seems to be no ulterior motive behind his question, at least not one you can sense. 

Hesitantly, you nod. 

He smiles kindly and holds out one of the burritos. It is just as fat and warm as any other. It is easily bigger than your head. “here. I make it my duty to give free food to the homeless. I used to be one of you. I know how difficult it can be.” 

_Honesty. Truth._

You look up at him and nod. “thank you.” You say, putting as much feeling into those two words as you can. Just because you can feel emotions is in the air, does not mean anyone else can.

He waves you away. “It's no problem child. You look like you need it.” 

You nod again, smiling, and turn away from the stall. You walk around the city streets and eventually find yourself in a park. You find a bench by the side of a pond and just sit there, eating the burrito. It might actually be the best thing that you've ever tasted. 

Where you were… that place, it may have been a living hell, but at least there was food. You never had to ask for food, it was always just there whenever you wanted it. You have never had to make it either, someone else did that for you. You do not know how to make food, how to look for it. You do not know how to get money, or how to budget it. Living on your own is not going to be as easy as you first thought, you realise. It was probably a tactic of his, he had many after all. To ensure you stayed by his side he made you so reliant upon him. Well, fuck him. You can learn to make this world your own, learn everything he would not let you learn, just to spite him. Spite is as good a motivator as any.

Thinking about him makes the food seem to solidify in your stomach, and you find yourself to be no longer very hungry, but you make yourself eat the rest of the burrito. You have no idea when you are next going to get food, and you need all the energy you can get.

“Ned, come on, it’ll be awesome!” Before your thoughts can carry you away in the endless cycle of panic, a boy’s laugh grabs your attention. Sitting beneath a tree, several meters away, a boy with curly brown hair, and his chubby friend sit doing their homework.

“No, Peter! I am not going to do that! We’ll get in trouble!” the boy, Ned, replies. He looks genuinely worried about something, freaked out would probably be a better description.

The boy who you assume is called Peter, pouts, but shakes his head. He flops down on the grass, head on his backpack. “Fine. Your loss.”

The innocent (or maybe not-so-innocent) interaction makes you smile. But just for a second. You have never had a friend. You wonder what it is like.

 _Curiosity._ The feeling spikes the air, causing panic to rise at the back of your throat. There are so many people around, so many emotions filling the air that you wonder why this one makes you panic. The you realise: this emotion is directed towards you. All the others are directed at someone else, as no one looks twice at a lone girl on a park bench, even if said girl has a black eye and looks like shit.

You turn around, looking for the source. Your eyes lock with his. The baseball cap does nothing to hide his piercing blue eyes that seem to have no other target than you. Another man dressed in the same nondescript clothes and baseball cap seems to be heading his way. He brought back up this time. Why would he do that? His intense stare freaks you out. The last time someone look at you that intensely…

God, even the memory makes you want to throw up. 

Face pale, nerves wrecked, you slowly turn back and begin to walk away.

Bucky. 

Goddammit. Why couldn’t he just stay away?

**********************************

His sleep is basically non-existent anyway. But after meeting you, there is no way in hell he is sleeping through the night. Instead, James Buchannan Barnes simply lies on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about what could have happened to you. For some reason he feels protective over you. He does not know why. Probably just because he had found you injured and unconscious.

If he ever finds out who did that…

He is grateful when the sun finally begins to rise. He would normally head straight to the gym, work out, rid his mind of whatever dreams he had, which are usually horrible things he does not want to think about. But today he heads to the kitchen. Stark has left a tablet on the counter and Bucky picks it up. 

“FRIDAY, scan CCTV. Find the girl I was talking to last night.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes. May I ask, what are you looking for?” the AI is just as curious as he is about this, it seems.

“I want to know who she is, where she came from, and the name of the sick fucker who left her lying there like that.”

The AI does not reply. Maybe it is the gravelly quality, or the anger, in his voice. Or maybe it is because as he speaks, Bucky's fist smashes through the marble kitchen counter, leaving a rather hefty dent in it. Staring at the damage, Bucky makes a mental note to pay Stark for the damage. Stark may be a billionaire who can easily afford the repair, but Bucky wants their relationship to improve. Do not get him wrong, he does not have the desire to spend every minute of every day with the engineer, but he would prefer it if Stark does not look at Bucky like he had willingly decided to end the world. Like he could not be trusted. 

"I have found footage." FRIDAY's voice pipes up. 

"Play it."

_The van is a nondescript basic black van. There is no license plate attached, no other sign of where it could possibly have come from. It reverses into the alleyway, the rear lights the only thing providing light to the situation. The back doors swing open, and a man pokes his head out. Looking around, he goes back inside, out of sight of the camera._

_After a few seconds, he steps out, dragging something with him. A body. Your body._

_He dumps you on the ground, looking around once more before ducking back into the van. The engine revs, and the lights light up the street, just as the van begins to drive away, leaving your bloody and battered body lying there._

Bucky watches, his fist slowly tightening on the corner of the couch. Anger sears through his veins. This guy beat you up and then dumped your body in an alleyway where anyone could have taken advantage of you. He knows the types of crooks in this world, and he knows exactly what they can do, and how they think. An unconscious young girl in an alleyway…. Too easy a target for the worst kinds of crooks.

“the van?” Bucky wants to figure out whose van it is, where they come from, and who he can tear to shreds for what they did to you.

“I can find no trace on the van Sergeant Barnes.” FRIDAY replies. 

Sighing, Bucky releases his grip on the couch, noting that the stitches have started to come lose. Something else he will have to pay Stark to repair. 

“however, I have found signs of the girl.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide, as he turns back to the screen. “what is it?”

FRIDAY does not reply. Instead, she just plays the footage. There are several clips just showing you walking. However, as you walk, you flinch whenever males aged between 16 and 25 come anywhere near you. You also seem to stay away from anyone showing particularly strong emotions. One woman, shouting angrily on the phone to someone, tears streaming down her face, makes you cross the street. A man in his late fifties, looking super depressed, makes you turn around and walk in another direction. Wondering what links these things, Bucky replays the clips again and again, looking for any further clues. But seeing nothing, he lets the recordings play out. 

He notices one thing; you seem to be heading towards all the old warehouses. Some are still in use, but most are abandoned and dilapidated old buildings now, remnants of when the city was based around industry. The footage ends with you ducking under a chainmail fence. 

Hope begins to enter Bucky’s mind. “Is she there? In the warehouses?”

“is who in the warehouses?”

The young cheerful and highly inquisitive voice makes Bucky jump. He turns to see Peter Parker hanging upside down from the ceiling, drinking a can of soda through a metal straw. In Bucky’s concentration, he had completely zoned out anything not related to the girl.

Bucky is just about to tell Peter to shove off when another thought comes to mind. Peter spends his nights (much to Stark’s disapproval) swinging around the city looking for bad guys. He pulls up a picture of the van, and the guy who dumped you. “if you see this man, or this van, tell me.”

“why?” Peter frowns

“he hurt a girl and dumped her in an alley. I’m trying to find him, for payback.”

Peter looks at Bucky in disapproval. He has been revengeful a few times in his life, and it has always gone wrong. But Bucky is older, far more highly trained, and a previous HYDRA agent that Peter would definitely not critise. “why does the girl matter so much?”

At that, Bucky is stumped. So, he tells Peter the truth. “I don’t know.”

But Peter seems to get it. So, he just shrugs, flips off the ceiling and walks out the kitchen. “if I see either of them, I’ll tell you.”


	3. Chapter 3

The days all pass much like the first. But luckily, you do not see Bucky again. Strangely, despite him being a familiar face, his presence does not reassure you. He seems to be taking too much of an interest into your life, and you are scared he will find out your secret. He will find out who you are and what you’re running from, and then send you back.

Fortunately, that has not happened yet. But unfortunately, there are now others taking an interest in your life. 

Most people are not kind, unlike the burrito guy. And so, to get food, you need money. After trying and failing to steal a sandwich from a local corner shop, you explained your situation to the owner who took pity on you and gave you an off the record job working round the back of his shop. You just stack the shelves, but he pays a decent hourly fee, which you use to buy blankets and food and better clothes, laundry detergent and a membership to the gym so you can use their showers. However, after about two weeks you realise the membership was a bad idea, and you can just sneak into the local high school after school and use the showers there.

The budget is tight, but you make it work. Nights are not so bad anymore; you have a little nest of about six blankets now to keep you warm. Days are less dire; you have a ten-hour shift at the shop (he doesn’t care how long you work, but you work as long as possible to make as much money as possible, plus, you have nothing else to do with your time.) and when you’re not there, you’re at the library, learning as much as you can about the world.

But at the library, you also learn about Bucky, James Buchannan Barnes, the winter soldier. You learn he is not a good guy. Or he was not, and now is. Its confusing. It makes your head hurt.

It is bad enough having to deal with the emotions of everyone around you, trying to process them and separate them from your own emotions, you do not need to be trying to understand the very confusing timeline of an avenger. 

But you make do and end up quite enjoying your life on the streets. You are always hungry, having to limit yourself to ten dollars a day to spend on food, so you can save for clothes and other necessities. Women with children always look at you pitifully, wondering why someone so young is not at school. Older men, usually other homeless men or drunks, leer at you from alleyways, and try to follow you home sometimes, but you have figured out the best way to get home now that keeps you away from the worst of them. 

And life goes on like that. Wake up, buy food, work, library, shower, sleep, repeat. 

But one day, three weeks after you met Bucky, you spot another avenger. You feel him before you see him. _Curiosity, confusion_. Those are the two main emotions. And another, related to someone else. Bucky, you think. You figure out that the avenger must be wondering why Bucky spoke to you.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually you spot him. He sits, crouched on the corner of a roof across the street from you, in his shiny red and blue Spandex. You smile ever so slightly, and stare up at him, letting him know he has been noticed. 

He tilts his head to the side. You do the same. He tilts his head to the other side; you do the same. He nods, you lift your head higher. Then he points to a little coffee shop down the road. You get the gist. 

He wants to meet you. 

Sighing, you nod, and begin making your way there. He is a spider, he swings above the heads of the public and goes unnoticed if he wants to; if you try to escape, he will find you. He shoots a web and swings down to meet you. Fascinated, you watch him land neatly at the shop entrance before he laughs at you.

"I don't get that reaction much anymore. I've been around too long."

"Wish I could say the same." You reply, against your better judgement. But you realise that Spiderman cannot actually be a man and is probably around your age. You wish you knew what that is though. You think you are 17, but _he_ never told you. For all you know, you could be much closer to 20. But that is _his_ age, and you know you’re younger than _him_. The math is sketchy, but 17 is your best guess. And from what you can tell, from the immaturity of Spiderman’s emotions, from the sound of his voice, he must be about 17 too.

Spiderman makes his way to a booth, and waves at one of the waitresses. She nods and begins to make some food. Sensing your confusion he shrugs, "I'm a regular." 

You say nothing. You do not know what to reply with.

Spiderman leans forwards and tilts his head to the side. "So, why is Bucky so infatuated with you?" 

Panic sparks in your veins. "Infatuated?" You work hard on controlling your breathing, in hiding your panic, but you are fairly certain he senses it. 

But he says nothing, just shrugging as he leans back into his seat. "You know, scanning the cameras every day, looking out for you. He nearly came to your rescue a few days after that incident with the drunk." 

You nod, again at a loss for what to say. 

"You don't say much, do you?"

"I don't know what you want me to say. I don't have any answers." 

He smiles, you can tell by the way his mask shifts. For some reason, his emotions move too fast for you to pick up with 100% certainty. "I can see why Bucky likes you. You're his kind of person." 

Just at that moment, the waitress drops off three plates of food. Big burgers with a healthy dose of chunky fries. Two are placed in front of Spiderman, but he slides one over to you. "Go on, you look like you could use it."

Hunger pains grip your stomach, reminding you how little you have eaten lately. But still, you resist reaching for the food, showing a weakness to this probably friendly person. Spiderman lifts his mask above his nose, and tucks into the food like nothing is out the ordinary.

"His kind of person?" You raise an eyebrow. 

He shrugs, placing a fry in his mouth. "Silent, sullen."

You feel a little offended by that. "I’m not sullen." 

He gives you a cheeky smile. "Coulda fooled me." You imagine he would wink if he wasn't wearing his mask. "Seriously, eat it. I didn't buy three for me to eat alone." 

He goes back to eating his burger as you tentatively lift it to your lips and take a big bit into it. Suddenly, you become ravenous. You finish the burger before you remember he is there. "You haven't asked my name."

"Bucky said you didn't like to give it out." 

"How much has Bucky told you?" By the sounds of it, not a lot. 

"Eh, this and that. Mainly that you live in a warehouse. I think that's why he told me to keep an eye on you." He says casually. 

"And have you?" He pauses. "been keeping an eye on me, I mean?" You clarify. 

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, just here and there. You don't seem to do much." 

Suddenly, a huge realisation hits you in the face. That voice, you know it! It is the one from the park. You frown. "Peter?" 

He freezes. "what?" 

You cough, trying to pass off the moment. "Sorry. I thought I recognised you." 

"How?" The pitch of his voice raises by about an octave. 

"I…" do you tell him? Do you tell him that the reason you could feel his emotions pretty damn clearly across a four-lane street is because you'd felt them at the park? Do you tell him that you recognise his voice because you envy his friendship with his mates and have been stalking him? Clearly, you've both been stalking each other.

"I think you should come with me." 

Those words flash you back. 

_"Come with me. I won't hurt you."_

_Pain, blood. Needles. Touches that shouldn't exist. Rooms filled with nightmares that shouldn't have happened._

_Him._

"Hey, you okay?" 

You get to your feet. The food in your stomach solidifying, and you find yourself looking for a restroom to vomit into. You say nothing, rushing into the ladies’ room, getting to your knees in front of the bowl just as the burger makes a reappearance. It is nowhere near as nice coming up as it was going down. 

A hand strokes circles on your back. "Just breathe okay." 

Peter is still with you, even though this is the _ladies_ room. 

You cough, tears rising in your eyes. "Just go, okay." 

His hand stills on your back, but it does not leave. "I'm worried. Bucky’s worried. And hell, when something makes Bucky worried, Steve, and pretty much all the other avengers become interested."

"If he's so interested why hasn't he come and seen me himself?" You snap, wiping bile from the side of your mouth.

Peter leans back on his knees. You probably look a weird sight, the two of you crouching in a bathroom stall. He pulls his mask off. "please."

You were right. He is a kid. But that does not make you trust him. 

_He_ was your age when he started….

"I'm not coming with you."

"Why not?" 

"Because I don't need your kind of help." They will send you back for sure. You cannot go back. You _will not_ go back. 

Peter sighs, getting to his feet. From somewhere - you do not think you want to know where - he pulls a flip phone. "my numbers on there. As is Bucky's and Tony Stark’s. If you need any of us, call us please. We want to help." _Truth, honesty, concern._

"I won't need you." But you take the phone anyway.

Peters jaw clenches, and he pulls his mask on. He backs away and leaves. "Maybe one day you will." 

_Pain_. You know your words hurt him, but you cannot risk it. If they find out what happened, they will be confused as to why you tried to leave, they will send you back, call you ungrateful. You cannot go back.

You had such a good life back there, everything you needed, someone who loved you. Even if the love was disgusting and something you had never wanted. If they knew you had thrown it all away, they would call you selfish, punish you, before sending you back

You can’t go back. 

That night, as you struggle to fall asleep, you clutch the phone, staring at the numbers, thumb hovering over the call button. You are cold and alone. All you want is a friendly face, someone to reassure you everything will be alright. But you know it will not be.

"No. I won't go back."

You flip the phone shut.

**********************************

He is sitting in the kitchen when he receives the call from Peter. "what?" 

"Hey grumpy. I've got some news." He wants to thank the kid for not calling him ‘mister Bucky' but honestly, his other statement is what grabs his attention. 

"What is it? Did you find her?" 

"Yep, and I can see why you like her. She's so much like you." Peter voice is light, almost as if he is laughing. 

"Will she come back?" 

"Nope." Peter pauses, and Bucky waits. He thinks Peter is going to offer an explanation, and honestly, he's not expecting the one he gets. "She's scared, but not of us. She knew who I was, but it did not make her trust me. There is something else, something that is stopping her. Hell, she had a flashback right there in the café. It's not often someone throws up in a toilet during your first meeting." 

"She knew who you were?" 

"Yep. Don't know how though." 

Bucky sighs. "Is she okay?" 

"Yeah. But it is going to take a lot more work to get her back here. I gave her our numbers though. She can call if she needs us." 

That calms Bucky's nerves a bit. But if he were you, a young girl on the streets with no one to call, he would not call anyone to help. Hell, he has been alone in the world, on the run from a horrific organisation, and he did not call anyone. It was only Steve repeatedly reaching out to him that made him begin to trust in people again. Perhaps that is what you need. Someone determined enough to make you trust again.

So, despite every instinct in Bucky telling him not to, Bucky gets up and begins to make his way outside.

**********************************


End file.
